CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The front door of their home flung open and Brent and MaKayla entered arguing.

“They were asking questions, Brent. That’s all.”

“They were making accusations, MaKayla. And I don’t wanna hear that shit! I’m tired of hearing it! I don’t wanna hear it anymore.”

“Why not, Brent? Because you’re afraid you’ll start questioning me too?”

Brent stared at his wife. And the truth was as clear as the bright light they stood beneath. “Yes,” he admitted.

MaKayla moved up closer to him. She was disappointed, he could see it in her eyes. But she wasn’t surprised. “Most men would have left as soon as they saw those panties. But you didn’t. You have every right to question me. I don’t mind that.”

Brent put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “I know for an absolute fact that you didn’t do what you’re being accused of doing. Somebody’s out to get you. I know that too. And with or without my family, I’m going to find out who that person is. They were willing to kill Darren to silence him. They aren’t going to silence you.”

“Did you see that car that followed us home?”

“I saw it.”

“Was that a cop car assigned to me?”

Brent shook his head. “Reno and Sal didn’t think that was a good idea. If Darren could turn on you, they weren’t so sure if my officers could be trusted too. Those guys are Sal’s guys. He has them in the front and the back of our house. They’re a security detail. They’re looking out for you.”

“Even though Sal and Reno have serious doubts about me.”

Brent nodded. “That’s how they are. Always family first. The details later.”

MaKayla smiled. “That’s the most wonderful thing, and the scariest thing about your family,” she said, and even Brent had to laugh at that.

But before day that next morning, Brent woke up to find MaKayla on the floor of their bedroom with what looked like a hundred sheets of papers around her. Brent got out of bed. She wore one of his big dress shirts. He wore nothing.

He towered over her. “What are you doing?”

MaKayla didn’t even realize he had awakened and gotten out of bed. She looked up, at his fine specimen of a body, at his still huge and dangling penis that had put it on her again before they went to sleep, and then she looked into his face. “I printed out all of my cases that ended in convictions dating back years. Especially the messiest ones. And three cases rose to the top of the list and stayed there.”

Brent knelt down. “What three?”

MaKayla handed him one sheet of paper. “Jerome Lewandowski.” She handed him a second paper. “Eric Jackson.” She handed him a third sheet of paper. “And Peter Zackery.”

“What were they accused of?”

“Rape and murder, all three.”

“Together or separately?”

“Separately, but I always had a suspicion that they were working together. I couldn’t prove it, so we chose not to go down that road at trial, but I always felt that was the case.”

Brent stared at his wife. She had an excellent mind. Somebody who knew how to keep the background noise in the background. “Why did all three rise to the top of your list? Because you felt they were connected?”

“Because of the way they committed their crimes. All three happened in a hotel. Not in The Hayton, but smaller ones around the county. All three involved rape and murder. And remarkably, all three tried to pin the crime on a woman.”

“That’s unusual.”

“Right yeah?”

“Don’t tell me it was the same woman?”

“Not the same woman, no,” MaKayla made clear. “But a woman. Which was bogus. But my case seems eerily similar. No rape was involved. At least I don’t think so. I haven’t been privy to the evidence and Gemma said the special prosecutor has been slow to give her anything. But the fact that somebody killed Alvin Clayton and are trying to pin it on me matches those cases. There’s a connection there. It may be a coincidental one, but something’s there.”

“Are they all still in prison?”

“They’re all out. All released within the last year.”

“They must have gotten pretty light sentences.”

“They did. Jerome Lewandowski served the longest time, and he only got eight years. Everybody else got five and four. But they may hold the key, Brent. I think first thing in the morning, we need to start with them.”

Brent reviewed the three sheets of paper again. Like MaKayla, he was methodical too. And then he nodded his head. “I agree,” he said.

And when he looked those bright green eyes over at MaKayla, she smiled. She felt as if they were at least making a start. Which was huge. Brent was on her side. Which was even better.